Friday, September 15, 2006

Ned Lamont’s victory in last month’s Democratic Primary is only the most recent success for the growing anti-war faction. This coalition’s only real common bond seems to be an intrinsic and complete loathing of President Bush and those associated with him. Unfortunately, this hatred has focused itself on an unlikely victim, Senator Joseph Lieberman, who was defeated by Lamont in the Democratic Primary last August. While Senator Lieberman is running on an independent ticket in November and will probably be reelected, Lamont’s victory is a disturbing harbinger of things to come.

Lamont’s essential campaign message is that Senator Lieberman does not accurately represent the people of Connecticut—solely because of the Senator’s support for the Iraq war and his perceived closeness to the administration. Essentially, Lamont is getting Connecticut voters to vote against President Bush by voting against Joe Lieberman. Not only is this a decidedly poor way to choose between candidates for political office, it is indicative of the fundamental danger of Lamont’s siren song. The problem is that Lamont and his wing of the Democratic Party have, in their hatred of President Bush, transcended all levels of political competition and embraced a sort of self-delusional nihilism that is predicated upon sheer contempt for one man. This does not make for good political philosophy, and more importantly, it does not make for good governance.

In 1964, Republican voters endorsed Arizona conservative Barry Goldwater as their party’s candidate for President over the Northeastern liberal Nelson Rockefeller. The primary marked a genuine ideological shift, with Republicans almost universally embracing conservatism to the exclusion of the leftover remnants of the progressive Republican titans such as Rockefeller. While Goldwater lost the election of 1964 to Lyndon Johnson, his campaign helped pave the way for Ronald Reagan and the resurgence of conservatism in the second half of the twentieth century. It was the defining moment of the Republican Party and forced Republicans to permanently commit to a conservative agenda.

Forty years later, Mr. Lamont’s supporters no doubt hope to pull off such a revolutionary party movement, with the ultimate goal being a Democratic Party united on an anti-war ticket. Unfortunately, unlike the Goldwater partisans, Lamont does not have a coherent ideological message. Lamont simply wants to eliminate all traces of George W. Bush from government, no matter whom he destroys in order to accomplish this. It is this nihilistic nature of the Lamont campaign that makes it so dangerous. Like any demagogue, Lamont has his own popular appeal. He can offer Connecticut voters what they seem to want—a purging of the pro-Bush faction. Regardless of one’s feelings about the President, an honest account of the possible consequences of a widespread victory for men like Ned Lamont is in order.

Most obviously, a Senator Lamont would vote to “redeploy” (he means retreat) out of Iraq. With potential Democratic takeovers in the House and Senate, the possibility of such a vote is quite real. Blinded by their fundamental hatred of an American President and the war that has come to define his Presidency, Lamont and his cohorts would orchestrate the single greatest foreign policy catastrophe in American history. The withdrawal of American forces from Iraq before a stable and secure Iraqi democracy was created would sentence the Iraqi people to endless sectarian strife. Moreover, the Shiites would look towards a new state sponsor to provide support for their government—and choose their Shiite brothers in Iran. Thusly, Iraq would become a proxy state of the world’s foremost sponsor of terrorism and would provide integral resources and arms for the world’s most dangerous terrorist groups such as Hezbollah. Essentially, Iraq would become another Afghanistan pre-liberation in 2001, and in ten or so years, we’d have to go back in to clear out a Taliban-style government. We can get the job done in Iraq now or we can pay the price for a generation.

Certainly, the administration needs to do more to improve the situation on the ground. While many strategic decisions have proven incorrect, the fog of war does not allow for perfect wars. However, one must keep in mind that Americans have always faced adversity. If not for a Christmas miracle at Trenton, Washington’s Continental Army never would have made it to the endgame outside Yorktown. Lincoln was one afternoon in July 1863 away from losing the Civil War, and Eisenhower nearly declared defeat after the first several waves at Omaha Beach. American military history is filled with catastrophic setbacks that we were always able—and more importantly, willing—to overcome. In comparison, the blunders seen in Iraq are rather insignificant and are easily surmounted—if we just have the will to wage a war for our own survival against the forces of global jihad. Unfortunately, men like Ned Lamont will never understand this and will do whatever they see necessary to take a ceremonial slap at the President.

At the close of the Boer War, Sir Arthur Conan Doyle remarked, “The deepest instincts of the nation told it that it must fight and win, or forever abdicate its position in the world. Through dark days which brought out the virtues of our [nation] as nothing has done in our generation, we struggled grimly on until the light had fully broken once again.” Are we willing to struggle grimly on?

Thursday, July 27, 2006

I have in my possesion, now, an object which cost me almost 4 times what car did (a 2001 Camry with a bazillion miles on it, so it isn't that much money- still, the most money I've ever spent at once).

I spend all my time wanting either to dance or throw up ('dance' usually wins).

I ca't even argue with idiots on the interwebs about politics, a passion which used to take all my free time.

I'll be less enigmatic on August 7th, because I gotta wait till then and therefore so do you, faithful reader.

Thursday, July 13, 2006

I know I don't usually Jblog, but this is too much. Both Russia and France celebrated Shiv'ah Asar b'Tammuz by kvetching that the attacks against Lebanon were a "disproportionate act of war". Meanwhile, one woman was killed in Nahariya by a katushya.

Tuesday, July 11, 2006

At a press conference, Secretary Rumsfeld said "How about that, eh? Eh? Thirty, by gum! Not bad for a 72 year old man, eh? Eh? Bare hands, too! No strangling gloves or nothing! It's my birthday present for Dubya. Happy sixtieth, Mr. President!"

When asked if he'd lost his cotton-pickin mind, The Secretary of Defense stated "In my day, a cabinet member murdering the enemies of our country wasn't actually quite this newsworthy an event, ya know.

I recall as a boy hearing the bloodcurdling screams of Nazi U Boat crews being dragged from their ships in the middle of the night by an enraged Franklin Roosevelt. He’d paddle his wheelchair into the Atlantic Ocean, smelling for Nazi. And then, like some Lovecraftian nightmare, he’d latch onto the side of a submarine, tear it open like a soda can, disembowel the sailors, drink their blood, and eat their intestines. That’s what gave him strength, you know.

Then some pinko bleeding heart fellow traveler comsymp wuss decided it might make bad propaganda, having an insane cannibal monster running the country… poor Franklin couldn’t feast on the living bodies of his enemies, anymore. Poor man just wasted away.

Fortunately his right hand man was crazy as he was. This is back in the day when Democrats were allowed to have cojones and were allowed to love their country. Nowadays, of course, we have Zoloft and stem cell research…”

Mr. Rumsfeld then stared off into space for several minutes. One of the reporters at the press conference finally worked up the courage to ask if it wasn’t beneath the Secretary of Defense’s dignity to engage in active murder while in office. Mr. Rumsfeld rerplied “I’m going to tell you exactly what I told Colin Powell. If you call me the Secretary of Defense one more time I am going to kill you, your family, your friends, your pets, your casual acquaintances, everyone on your IM buddy list, and all your MySpace friends. I. Am. The. Secretary. Of. War! NOT THE SECRETARY OF DEFENCE! ONLY WIMPY CRYBABY NATIONS LIKE FRANCE HAS SECRETARIES OF DEFENCE RRAAAAAAAGGGGHHH! RUMSFELD MAD! RUMSFELD SMASH!”

Sunday, June 25, 2006

Claiming that soccer plants the seeds of nationalism, and is therefore part of a "colonial crusader scheme" to divide Muslims and cause them to stray from the vision of a unified Islamic identity, the website told readers: "The sad fact of the matter is that many Muslims have fallen for this new religion and they too carry the national flag.

In other news, John Paintsil, the Ghanan soccer player who plays for Hapoel Tel Aviv when he isn't in the world cup and caused enormous controversy among hate mongering xenophobic whackadoo Islamofascists when he waved an Israeli flag to celebrate a goal, has been outed as a Mossad agent by Egyptian national media.

"The ignorant and stupid Pantsil, who spent 20 days in Egypt during the last African Nations Cup, plays for Hapoel," sports commentator Alaa Sadek wrote in the daily Al-Akhbar, explaining to baffled Egyptian audiences Panstil's link to Israel. Some papers described Pantsil as a "Mossad agent", others said "an Israeli had paid him to do it" but the most elaborate theory was offered by the top-selling state-owned daily Al-Ahram.

"The real reason," sports analyst Hassan el-Mestekawi wrote,stems from the fact that many Ghanaian players go through football training camps set up by an Israeli coach who "discovered the treasure of African talent, and abused the poverty of the continent's children" with the ultimate goal of selling them off to European clubs."The training program for these children starts every morning with a salute to the Israeli flag," Mestekawi claimed.

Valery Plame was last seen snorking coffee all over her keyboard while reading this blogpost.

I ran into a British friend of mine on Thursday, who immediately (and good heartedly, I should add) offered his sincere condolences on the American team's elimination from the playoffs, followed by a close and detailed analysis of the game, followed by a complicated and involved monologue on the subject of the probable outcome of the World Cup.

Sometimes I'm too nice for my own good. I could have told him to shut the hell up any time in the twenty minutes this conversation took place, or I could have just changed the subject, but he was obviously having too much fun. So, whatev.

Friday, June 16, 2006

I wonder what people like that did before the Interwebs was invented by Al Gore?

Back in the day, it took a team of six men, three mules, and a dozens of slaves plucking ducks for quills and stomping blueberries to make ink to create even a single blog, which had to be printed on parchment and distributed outside bars, or "ale-houses", which were the forums of the day.

Medieval Bloggers hard at work. Source: British Museum.

As old school blogger Thomas Paine, who blogged at 7h3 4g3 0f R3450n, once put it:

It taketh Men a Fortnight for to blog a Single Post, which that jerk His Majesty King George then Censores. Thank Ye, Messrs. Google, for Lending your powers of Technomancy to subjugate Men, for they may no Longer be assured of Posting freely without Fear of IP Scanninge. "Do no evil" my ass.

Heh. Indeed.

Of course, then came Blogger, giving people like me the power to link to random crap. So, yay Blogger!

Tuesday, June 06, 2006

I've been having trouble with it for a while, I must admit. For the past year and a half I have had it on life support, downloading CCleaner, Adaware, and Webroot, and vigilantly deleting this and rationalizing that and defragmenting the other thing.

Yesterday was Lappy's Last Stand.

I use this laptop for work, mainly. I can plug in and program alarm panels, PA amps, and PBXs with the thing- ever so much more efficient than programming the things manualy, which takes forever. I do paperwork. I do demos at onsite for customers. I draw up plans. And I blog.

Blogging is not a work related funcion, of course, but in the interest of fairness it must be included.

Sunday, I plugged the powerpack in and the light flickered on and off. The thing refused to charge.

Last night, I tried plugging in the powerpack again.

At first, I just heard a little grinding sound, as of someone stepping on ground glass.

I thought that there was some dirt in the plug. I blew it out and reseated the cord again firmly.

Zap. Snap.

Pop.

Sizzzzzzzzle.

Sob.

As the smoke cleared, I considered my options. Sure, everything was backed up, and I'd known this was coming for some time now. Still, the loss of a loved one is never easy. This was my first computer all my own... the first time I had ever used Firefox... the first time I had ever blogged... the first time I ever edited music... the first time I had ever programmed an alarm panel... the first time I had ever put a DVR online...

Tuesday, May 30, 2006

Over the past few months, no single issue has captivated Washington such as the battle over illegal immigration. Both parties are scurrying to find the combination of border security and protection to illegals already in the country that will resonate with voters.

President Bush, historically an immigration moderate, has called for 6,000 National Guard troops to be temporarily deployed upon the Mexican border, and various proposals call for a triple-layered security fence and increased patrolling.

While illegal immigration poses a multitude of economic and security risks, what all sides of the debate are ignoring is how our proposed policies are effecting the political climate in Mexico.

Right now, Mexico has a generally pro-American, center-right party in power, headed by President Vincente Fox. Fox’s successor, Felipe Calderón, is currently fighting for the presidency with the leftist Andrés Manuel Lopéz Obrador. Mr. Obrador is a skillful politician whose populist ideology makes him very popular among Mexican workers. More disturbingly, Mr. Obrador is allied to other leftwing dictators in Latin America, including Venezuela’s thuggish Hugo Chévez and Cuba’s Fidel Castro.

Mr. Calderón and Mr. Obrador are squaring off in this July’s presidential elections, and at this point, the race is too close to call either way. While Calderón has a single digit lead in the polls, Mexicans are reacting very negatively to the talk of National Guard troops on the border. Anti-Americanism is one of Mr. Obrador’s fundamental campaign mantras, and as talk of militarizing the border increases here in America, so does support for Mr. Obrador.

This rising tide of support is a far graver danger than any realize. Much of Latin America has come under the influence of leftist dictators who are committed to challenging American global interests. Recent elections have put Chávez allies into power in Peru, Argentina, and Bolivia. Cold War relic Daniel Ortega is favored in the Nicaraguan presidential polls, and even traditionally pro-American Columbia has moved into Chávez’s corner.

Chávez has drawn an increasingly confrontational course with Washington, and his frequent overtures to China and India mean that one day he might be able to cut off the sale of Venezuela’s priceless oil to the United States—a move which would be catastrophic for the American economy.

All of this means that the United States cannot afford a staunch Chávez-style demagogue and adversary to assume power just across the Rio Grande. Whatever the security threat posed by illegal immigration, the infinitely graver danger is to allow a man who seeks to damage American interests to take power next door. There is no easy solution for illegal immigration, but American policymakers need to immediately take into consideration the potential ramifications of American actions and monitor Mexican public sentiment to gauge what the Mexicans will tolerate and what they will not. If we actively promote Chávez’s allies through fool-hearty measures, we will have no one to blame but ourselves if we suddenly face a Latin America that is every bit a diametrically opposed to our interests as the numerous totalitarian regimes that we are fighting to eliminate in the Persian Gulf.

Monday, May 29, 2006

I learned something. I learned: war is hard. I must have died a bazzilion times. Even set to Ultimate Wimp Mode, all the Nazis in the world snuck up on me and shot me in the butt as I was trying to figure out how to jump over a log. Too many logs lying around in modern battlefields, in my opinion. Where's OSHA when you need them?

Fortunatly, I always got to start over, which is more than I can say for millions of Americans who made the ultimate sacrifice so I could have the freedom to play video games rated M... and to play those games in English, and not German, or Japanese, or Russian.

That is a large portion of the population.So large, in fact, that I say its useless to fight it.From now on, lets call ourselves The United States of North America. We should send the Army into Mexico City and Ottawa, force them to pull down the statues of national heroes, and install a Starbucks every fifteen feet. Because, hey, I like coffee, and, hey, who's going to stop us?

Mexicans will approve of the plan, because now all Mexicans will be eligible for free healthcare, welfare, Social Security, a public school system with the highest levels of edutainment in the world, and Paris Hilton. They will have equality under the law and a law worth being equal under. They will be part of the greatest, richest, most powerful nation the planet has ever known. They will have four channels of MTV, two channels of VH1, and innumerable HBO affiliates.

Yes, I know America, officially speaking, has no national healthcare system. But we have a de facto national healthcare system in that it is illegal to turn anyone away from an emergency room due to lack of insurance. I've seen people go to an ER for aspirin, a toothache, a splinter. So, we have all the benefits of a free healthcare system- free healthcare- and none of many horrible drawbacks- beurocracy and that whole "planned economy takes away the incentive to work better" thing.

Now, the benefits to Canadians may be harder to see. But, hey, come on, they're Canadians. Just tell them "next Olympics, you can have black people play for your team in basketball! You may even find out what it feels like to win a gold medal!" (For you Non Americans out there wondering what it feels like to have your national team win a gold medal in Olympic Basketball, allow me to share the following with you: it feels freakin' sweet).

If they still object, just point behind them and say, "look, a moose! and he is carrying a sign saying "Cnadaada suX0rs" in English but not in French!

Meese can't spell very well, so the Canadians will totally believe this. Also, the French Canadians, or Quobecoises (motto: Even we can't spell that word, and we made it up in 1967) get seriously cheesed off (frommaged sur plus dans) when someone dares speak English, but after many decades of fierce negotiation, they grudgingly allowed the English speaking Canadians to print signs in English, assuming matching text is printed in French. And then they must wrestle a Maple Leaf Monster. While juggling hockey pucks.

Which leads me back to my point, which I'll recall as soon as I scan up a few lines in the text.

Meese? That can't be right. Meeses, maybe.

Oh, yeah, my point is, just tell the Canadians that if they join the United States of North America, we will immediately deport all the French Canadians to Mars and distribute a free can of spray paint to every teenager ages 14-17 who promises to spray paint over any bit of printed French visible in public.They'll rush to join.

Wednesday, April 26, 2006

This is why they don’t let British police have guns. They’d just hurt themselves.

In America, however, one never, ever, ever gets between a cop and his or her Krispy Kreme donuts. Ever!

Of course, if you experience police brutality, you know who’s at fault: President Bush. The source of all badness and evilosity.

Of course, maybe President Bush really is out of his cotton-pickin’ mind nowadays. I just got this as an email from a whackjob crackpot; I haven’t seen it anywhere so I can’t verify its accuracy.

ALEXANDRIA, Va. (AP) -- An editorial writer for the Alexandria Intelligencer, Carl Bury, was reportedly arrested by federal agents last night. Neighbors say they were awakened by shouting around midnight as Bury was taken away in an unmarked van. The men apprehending Bury identified themselves as being "with the government" and left before neighbors could question them further. The staff at the Alexandria Intelligencer say they have been unable to learn what has happened to Bury, other than being told by police that it is a federal matter. Bury had often written controversial editorials denouncing the Bush administration as illegal and alleging that there is proof that President Bush knew about the September 11th terrorist attacks beforehand. Bury has no criminal record, and the local police are not aware of the reason for his arrest. The White House has yet to respond to this matter.

(I was going for alliteration there, but I don’t think the use of three words in a row counts as alliteration- it was just cutesy.)

Quick question- does this look like “free speech” to you?

Mark Echo, the uber-rich skell behind the Air Force One tagging incident, among other things, is suing Vallone and Hizzoner the Lord Mayor over the law that says people under the age of 21 can’t possess broad-tipped markers or spray paint.

The problem is, he’s challenging it under free-speech laws, arguing that graffito is free speech, instead of arguing interruption of commerce or something that actually makes sense. To simplify, Mister Echo thinks that some idiot drawing his nickname on the roll down gates of your store is the same thing as the Federalist Papers.

Tuesday, April 18, 2006

A: As anarchists, we reject the stifling, repressive Rethuglican concept of “flavors”. We encourage you to choose your own flavor experience. We are not bound by the chocolate-vanilla-strawberry paradigm that has oppressed ice cream enthusiasts for generations.

Q: What can I get for 37 cents?

A: As anarchists, we reject the exploitative capitalistic practice of demanding money in exchange for ice cream. As Karl Marx explains in his letter to Engels of 24 August 1867, which put forth the theory of surplus value, in each class of society, part of society (the ruling class) appropriates the social surplus product. Nature grows grass, which is eaten by cows, which produce milk, which is stolen by agrobusiness, a part of the military-industrial complex, forcing the proletarian farmer to compete against each other. The milk of oppression is exploited by Ben and Jerry’s, which leads to the capitalistic rip-off.

Sunday, April 16, 2006

The NYPD is installing security cameras all over the city, similar to cameras in other cities.

Speaking as a security systems engineer specializing in CCTV, and speaking as someone who has lived in New York City his whole life, let me be the first person to say: ha!

Ha ha ha ha.

Spending 9 million dollars on these things are fine- even though I won’t get a penny out of it (my company doesn’t have a shot at even sub-subcontract work, as my name does not end in a vowel, I’m not a member of the union, and I can’t afford to shmear any local politicians). What gets me is, someone is missing the point of cameras.

These cameras are useless unless someone is available to 1) watch the cameras and 2) dispatch people to take care of problems, and they will still be useless unless there are cops available to respond to those jobs.

Save your cash and get more beat cops is my advice.

Plus, I sure hope these cameras are bulletproof… and if they are, that’ll allow the cameras to survive for 4 to 6 weeks, not much more.

Friday, April 14, 2006

Ever since the historic elections in Iraq last December, the former Baathist state has steadily descended into an inferno of sectarian violence and increasing power of thuggish militias. Despite frequent claims to the contrary, the regression in progress does not display the futility of nation building in Iraq. In fact, the large majority of Iraqis have acted patiently and heroically during the recent renewal of violence. The sober truth is the blame for Iraq’s regression lies not with the Iraqis but with ourselves.

While there were many honest disagreements about the number of troops needed to properly secure Iraq both before and after the 2003 invasion, it has become increasingly clear that we do not have enough troops on the ground. The key number of American troops needed to properly secure Iraq has consistently been 150,000. Whenever we hit that mark, such as during last December’s elections, the situation stabilizes and the insurgency cools down. However, just as the situation calms down, the military invariably announces troop reductions, bringing troop levels down to about 120,000-130,000. Following the reduction of ground forces, things inevitably heat up and the political situation in Iraq gets progressively worse until we once more raise troop levels.

One would think that the military would eventually catch on and stay at the 150,000 mark. The problem is that the military has fundamentally misconstrued the nature of American power in Iraq, and the military’s underlying thesis is setting America up for disaster. The military thinks that American troops are the underlying cause of the insurgency. According to their line of thinking, whenever American troops raid a village looking for insurgents or deploy in a Baghdad neighborhood, they create resentment among the population, which consequently drives people to resist the American presence through support for the insurgency. Thus, according to the Pentagon Brass, America should pursue a “light footprint” strategy and let Iraqi troops do the majority of the maneuvering, as Iraqi troops will not attract the level of hostility that American troops will.

This logic is absurd on three levels. First and foremost, Iraqi troops aren’t as capable as American forces. While they are certainly progressing, we cannot expect to fight and win a war relying on second-rate troops. We have the best and most expensive army in the world—we need to take advantage of it. Every time that Iraqi troops don’t quite complete a mission as well as American troops could have, one more terrorist escapes or one more car bomb goes off. Attacks that could have been prevented hurt our image in Iraq and further give strength to the insurgency.

Second of all, letting the Iraqis do the heavy lifting makes sectarian strife worse. The Iraqi army is largely Shiite and the areas where the insurgents live are Sunni. When Shiite troops raid Sunni settlements, they are setting the stage for reprisal killings and ethnic hatred. If American troops went in instead, the Sunnis would get mad at America. That is perfectly fine, because Americans don’t have to live with the Sunnis—the Shiites do. It is far better to have America hated, rather than the Shiites, because when the Sunnis get mad and retaliate, they will attack American forces instead of Shiite civilians. While our army is fully prepared to handle such attacks, innocent civilians stand no chance of defending themselves. This loss of life leads to bitter resentment and hatred amongst the Shiite population, which in turn retaliates by killing yet more Sunnis, and the cycle continues.

The third harmful effect is that the Iraqi forces are largely unwilling to curb the growing power of Shiite militias. These militias are trained and financed by Iran, and are rapidly becoming a far greater threat to a democratic Iraq than the largely Sunni insurgency. The militias act with near impunity in the Shiite south and demand protection money from local villages, using violence and coercion to subtly take over political and social institutions. Iran used this strategy with resounding success in 1980’s Lebanon and they are getting away with it again. The military has until now refrained from taking decisive action to destroy these militias, and this inaction is a terrible mistake. We cannot afford to lose the Shiite street to the Iranian-backed militias; even if we pay a political price with the Shiites by combating the men who provide social services and welfare to poor urban areas, the long-term cost of inaction is incalculable.

Unfortunately, the military is continuing to follow its “light footprint” philosophy. In fact, it is growing ever more determined to do so. The new commander of ground forces in Iraq, Lt. General Peter Chiarelli, aims to cut back even more on the activity of American troops. This strategy not only means less frequent confrontation of the militias, but also that we will more likely refrain from engaging mosques filled with insurgents or take other similarly aggressive measures. While aggressive American action would probably result in short term unpopularity, in the long run, it would win the war and provide a better quality of life for Iraqis. Short sided, poll-oriented strategy is a recipe for disaster and will not only cripple our troops on the ground, but pave the way for civil discord and unending sectarian strife. The military needs to engage in total war against all insurgent factions and Shiite militias in an effort to secure the nation. Three years of public relations-minded quasi war have accomplished little—we need to finally get serious.

Monday, April 03, 2006

Oh the endless unrevised sentences of highly motivated and easily panicked students who during finals week…neglect such simple things as common sense and reasonable sentence length in a desperate (but ultimately futile) attempt to stuff every last thought they have about this, that or the other topic into a single sentence for fear that, if they do not, the person responsible for grading their final essay—be he a lowly T.A. like myself or a Pulitzer Prize-winning journalist like Barry Siegel—will decide that since the entirety of their thinking about this… because they decided that thoughts must be contained in sentences much like they are contained in minds—that is, completely and wholly—with nothing pertaining to the thought they have corralled into the sentence being allowed to exist outside it lest their instructors (myself and Barry) mistake their decision to end a sentence with a desire to end all thought per se and embrace the life they have worked so hard for so long to escape…

Rhetorical question (erotesis) differs from hypophora in that it is not answered by the writer, because its answer is obvious or obviously desired, and usually just a yes or no. It is used for effect, emphasis, or provocation, or for drawing a conclusionary statement from the facts at hand.

But how can we expect to enjoy the scenery when the scenery consists entirely of garish billboards?

. . . For if we lose the ability to perceive our faults, what is the good of living on? --Marcus Aurelius

Is justice then to be considered merely a word? Or is it whatever results from the bartering between attorneys?

So much heartache and fisking could be avoided if only bloggers could learn to recognize a rhetorical question.

Friday, March 31, 2006

I went to shopping in the Park Slope neighborhood today. Park Slope and the surrounding neighborhoods of Sunset Park, Fort Greene, and East New York is a fascinating case of shifting demographics. Just a decade ago, the area was under the control of the Brooklyn chapter of the Drug Dealers' Union, along with their affiliates, the Hookers Union local 452, The International Brotherhood of Thieves, Carjackers, Muggers, and Pickpockets (IBTCMP) and the gang banger's franchise of Murder, Inc. In other words, the neighborhood was fun and interesting. Then the white people moved in.

Don't get me wrong. I have nothing against white people. Heck, I'm white myself, or Jewish, which is close enough. "White People" is what we call the people who call themselves "hipsters". You know, Midwestern-born the latte drinking, health food eating, goateed jerks who wear Buddy Holly type glasses and listen to jazz. They are ignorant of the most basic aspects of life in the city.

Say, for example, something as simple as crossing the street. These morons will stride to the nearest crosswalk, wait for the light to change, carefully look both ways, and proceed across the street at a leisurely pace, all the while blathering about the cultural diversity of the urban experience. This in the city that invented jaywalking and has since elevated it to an art form.

I or any other Brooklynite worth his rat poison will cross between two parked cars I will wait for a break in the traffic and walk briskly to the double yellow line. I will watch the car coming the other way. Provided the driver is not in a homicidal mood (by no means a given), he or she will speed up, traffic conditions permitting, causing a gap in the flow of traffic. Noting this, I will shift my weight to my left leg a raise my right. When the car's mirror passes me, I will step with my right leg and begin walking. Timed correctly, I will reach a gap between two parked cars on the other side before the next car can turn me into a greasy spot on the pavement and a forty five second spot on the five o'clock news. See? Like I said, it's an art form.

That is, if a native is driving. If a white person is driving, there really is no telling what they'll do. Sometimes, they'll slow to a crawl, causing cars behind them to drive into oncoming traffic in an attempt to pass (and narrowly missing me standing on the double yellow line, if I'm lucky). Sometimes they will panic stop, causing horrific traffic pileups. Sometimes they will gesture violently to the effect of "I'm from out of town! Take my wallet and my car keys, just let me live"! Or so I assume.

Anyway, Park Slope. There is a weekly flea market in the yard of the local public school. One can purchase hilarious neckties from the fifties, ridiculous buttons from the sixties (Make love, not war!), horrible clothing from the seventies, and horrible and ridiculous Danish furniture from the nineties. There is enough gaudy costume jewelry to bebauble every prostitute to ever work in this city going back to Tammany Hall. There is always elderly Russians Soviet era gewgaws- campaign ribbons and medals from the Great Patriotic War, tie clasps and cufflinks bearing Lenin's ugly mug, and various coins and bills.

It was at one such stall that I got into a bidding war with a soft spoken Asian guy over a Soviet tanker unit patch. "But why?" his girlfriend wanted to know. "I guess I just have a Soviet militaria fetish (the magazines and websites of which I shall leave to your imagination). I ended up paying six dollars for the patch and six dollars for a set of cool looking shoulder boards. The dealer alleged that the shoulder boards were that of a police senior sergeant, which I am still attempting to verify. The guy event threw in an officer's belt, which has a cool looking buckle. The belt itself, however, is made of the awful thin plastic-looking leather we failed to make wallets out of in summer camp. The Asian guy bought a less elaborate set of shoulder boards and an awful- looking Sam Browne belt, also police, in white patent leather. It would have been rejected out of hand by any self-respecting crossing guard (oxymoron alert) in America on account of its comical appearance. The fellow, clearly delighted at the sale, promised to have better stuff next week. "You like officer coat, yes? Maybe hat?" He solemnly shook hands with the Asian dude and me, and we walked away with our purchases.

It occurred to me that what we had here was nothing less than the spoils of our victory in the fight against International Communism (European Division). The guy walked away with twenty-six dollars between us and was clearly thrilled to be dumping the useless garbage on us. The powerful, terrifying Soviet military was nothing but junk. That's right, comrade. The revolution is over, and the bourgeoisie won. I was surrounded with elderly men desperate enough for my greenbacks to supplement their Social Security checks to part with their hard earned "Proletariat of the Week" medals and old, yellowing Ché posters (although the people selling the Ché posters were all aging American leftists). Taste the ash-heap of history, tavoritch.

It is always prudent, while doing a sack dance in the end zone, to make sure the other members of your team aren't setting fire to the stadium, defenestrating the announcers, and raping the cheerleaders. In the next stall over, there was an Author Andersen travel coffee mug. The woman selling it said I was the first person all day to recognize Enron's old accounting firm. It was labeled five dollars, but she let me have it for four. Then, with the mug of capitalism at its most rapacious sharing a shopping bag with the uniforms of the police state so total in it's totalitarianism that it simply collapsed under its own weight, I went home. I had a coffee while looking up my new purchases on EBay. The belt was selling for six dollars, but there were no buyers. The tanker patch was selling for four. I couldn't find the shoulder patch at all. The bastard had ripped me off. Maybe he was getting the hang of this capitalism thing after all. So there's hope for the Russians. At least I have the mug.

Thursday, March 30, 2006

A member of Congress punched a cop. Furthermore, that cop did not beat her ass down with a lead-filled nightstick in the approved law enforcement manner.

According to sources on Capitol Hill, U.S. Representative Cynthia McKinney (D-GA) punched a Capitol police officer on Wednesday afternoon after he mistakenly pursued her for failing to pass through a metal detector. Members of Congress are not required to pass through metal detectors.

Sources say that the officer was at a position in the Longworth House Office Building, and neither recognized McKinney, nor saw her credentials as she went around the metal detector.The officer called out, “Ma’am, Ma’am,” and walked after her in an attempt to stop her. When he caught McKinney, he grabbed her by the arm. Witnesses say McKinney pulled her arm away, and with her cell phone in hand, punched the officer in the chest.

Hey, remember when some oily Saudi prince tried to give Rudy like a gazillion dollars? And then the Saudi guy was all like, well, the United States "should re-examine its policies in the Middle East and adopt a more balanced stand toward the Palestinian cause”? And that "while the U.N. passed clear resolutions numbered 242 and 338 calling for the Israeli withdrawal from the West Bank and Gaza Strip decades ago, our Palestinian brethren continue to be slaughtered at the hands of Israelis while the world turns the other cheek."?

And then some dipstick Congresscritter goes and thanks said prince for his generosity and suggests that perhaps the money can go to black charities? And that she agreed with his call for a re-examination of the U.S. role in the Israeli-Palestinian conflict.

A leading U.S. security firm has offered to provide forces for any counter-insurgency mission around the world. J. Cofer Black, vice chairman of Blackwater USA told the Special Operations Forces Exhibition (Sofex-2006), that his company could supply private soldiers to any country. Black, a former U.S. State Department counter-terrorism coordinator, said Blackwater has been marketing the concept of private armies for low-intensity conflicts.

Say it with me, now:In 1972, a crack commando unit was sent to prison by a military court for a crime they didn't commit. These men promptly escaped a maximum security stockade to the Los Angeles underground. Today, still wanted by the government, they survive as soldiers of fortune. If you have a problem, if no one else can help, and if you can find them, maybe you can hire...the A-Team.

Now I’m going to have the theme song to that show stuck in my head for weeks. Damn.

Here is my review of Fahrenheit 911, written before I started blogging, and posted on my old blog. If you haven’t read it, its new to you.

Chainik Hocker reviews Fahrenheit 911Note: I first wrote this review in early July, about three days after the movie came out, and was hoping to sell it to somebody somewhere. Nobody bought it or was even willing to publish it for free. So I saved it on my hard drive and forgot about it. I just dug it up now. Here it is.

I must start this review with a caveat. Not only am I a Republican- an Orthodox Jewish Republican- an Orthodox Jewish Republican who has lost friends and relatives to Arab terror in New York and Israel- but I am also a huge Michael Moore fan.

I first discovered Roger and Me on cable when I was sixteen, and have since read all his books and seen all his movies. The man is both a genius and funny as hell. However, he has moved from his populist, mildly socialist Roger and Me (force GM to keep jobs in Flint!) to the more extremist Downsize This! (nationalize GM!) to the crackpot lefty Dude, Where’s My Country? (capitalizt GM exploits the proletariat!). Which brings us to Fahrenheit 911.

I was extremely reluctant to contribute my $8.50 to Moore’s coffers. However, I remembered all his criticisms of capitalism and realized that he probably wouldn’t want me to go to a theater (owned by Lowe’s), having purchased my ticket online (with my computer from Dell and an operating system from Microsoft), purchase a soda (Coca Cola Corporation) having traveled in my Ford automobile (powered by gas from Exxon). This one trip to see a movie would put money in the pockets of a lot of big powerful corporations. So instead I walked around the corner from my apartment and bought a pirated DVD for five bucks.

The movie is a well crafted, deliberately paced, beautifully written piece of crap. The plot, as far as I could tell, went as follows. First Al Gore is elected President of the United States. Then George Bush’s cousin, working for Fox News, tells everybody that Dubya won after all. All the African Americans in the country have their votes discounted. The US Senate doesn’t care.

Dubya is a lazy guy who spends much of the summer of 2001 on vacation. It is implied that Gore wouldn’t have taken a vacation (although he would have needed a tune-up and an oil change after 5,000 miles).

Then Osama Bin Laden crashes four planes into the World Trade Center and the Pentagon. It turns out that Dubya’s father, Bush the Elder, knows Saudi Arabians from Saudi Arabia. He has even done business with Saudi Arabians and has visited Saudi Arabia. Also, Dubya may have known a guy who knew Osama’s father. Both the Bushes know the Saudi Arabian ambassador, who is from Saudi Arabia. Osama Bin Laden is from Saudi Arabia. Saudi Arabia is very rich and it owns precisely 7% of the United States. Saudi Arabia gave Dubya 150 billion dollars. You get paid about 400 thousand dollars a year to be President. 150 billion dollars is more money than 400 thousand.

After the WTC incident, Dubya got real mad. So mad that he invaded Afghanistan, an innocent country that had never done anything wrong to us. They were run by some real evil guys named ‘Taliban’ with funny beards and bad teeth who didn’t respect women’s rights. Also, Dubya was real good friends with the Taliban. We have proof in the form of a trip that a Taliban representative took a trip to Texas in 1997 and met with the Governor, who was Bush. Donald Rumsfeld bombed the heck out of Afghanistan, but most of the Taliban got away. He did manage to kill a whole bunch of innocent civilians, though. Then Bush decided to invade Iraq, just for the hell of it. More innocent civilians were killed. Also some American soldiers. Many American soldiers are from poor neighborhoods.

The military actually has people who go around to poor neighborhoods and encourages people to join. There is an interview with a mutinous Marine (whose first name, not that it matters, is Mohammed) who announces his intentions to go AWOL rather than return to Iraq.

Some rather gruesome shots of dead and dieing Arabs are shown. We follow an unidentified Army unit on Xmas eve arresting an Iraqi for reasons we are never told. The man’s relatives are, not surprisingly, annoyed at this. Cut to an interview of the mother of an American soldier killed in Iraq. Cut to an Iraqi kid screaming and bleeding from a head wound. Cut to American mother sobbing in front of the White House. Cut to American soldiers under attack. Some of the men have been hit. There is much shouting, running back and forth, camera jiggling, bleeding, gunshots. Cut to Iraqi with arm mostly off and bleeding all over the place. Cut to explosions, confusion, yelling, the President playing golf. The army has been brought to its knees. Fade to black.

In his terrifyingly bland, Midwestern, nose-first voice, Moore narrates our national descent into hell. Iraq is Vietnam with sand and camels. He plays six-degrees-of-separation between Bush and Osama, so convincingly that we want to leave the theater and burn George at the stake for being the twenty first hijacker. The battle scenes leave us astonished there are any Marines left alive. The powerful scene with the grieving mother causes many an eye to tear up and many a stomach to turn. The shots of bleeding and broken Iraqis looked like someone stuffed their sister’s dolls in a blender, poured in some dirt and a lot of tomato juice, and pushed puree with the cover off, and splashed the result all over the street, with extra yelling and running around. This is bullshit. This is sickening. There is no excuse for this kind of barbarism.

Burn down the White House. Hang all Republicans from light poles. Then the credits roll and you come to your senses.

Something was bothering me. I couldn’t quite put my finger on it. This is why, when one views a documentary on current American politics, one does so in the company of a Canadian or other some such foreigner- to provide a sense of perspective. The Canadian I was watching the film with came up with the biggest problem of the film, which proves my point. “What was the deal” he said “where they had the Senators with the kids who weren’t in the army?”

See, Mr. Moore pointed out that many legislators in this country, including those who approved the war in Iraq, don’t have children in the military. He pulled a classic Moore stunt by going around to Congressmen with military-age sons and handing out recruiting literature. The results are, predictably funny… but there’s something wrong with this picture.

What?

During Vietnam, we had the draft. If called to serve, you damn well went into the army, whether you wanted to or not (in theory). However, now the Charlie Chaplin of the Iraq-as-Nam metaphor slips on the banana peel of logic. We have an all volunteer force nowadays. And nobody, mutinous Marine notwithstanding, is in the military involuntarily. Yes, it is possible that some joined for the benefits and not because they expected to have to actually fight. However, they did sign up of their own free will.

This is, at most, a minor quibble. However I believe it is indicative of Mr. Moore’s attempt to reclaim sixties style political activism, even if it means twisting an Iraq until it fits into a Nam-shaped hole. For most liberals today (although I hear they’re calling themselves “progressives” now, and I for one thing it’s great that they finally have the guts to show there true colors by calling themselves what Communists used to call them- although the Communists were being sarcastic and the lefties seem not to be kidding), the sixties never ended. So thrilled are they by finally being able to have everybody chant the same thing at the demonstrations that they did forty years ago, (namely, “Stop the War!!!”) they will gladly protest any damn thing. Bush? He’s a Republican, isn’t he? Booo!!! Stem cell research? The Right is against it? Yay stem cell research!!! War? Booo war!!!

This kind of knee-jerk politics has replaced careful thought and deliberate decision, followed by a knee jerk reaction. Well, my knees don’t work all that well, and I can’t jerk them. I can sit down and think about stuff, and I can remember that we did not start this damn war. We did not start this war, but we will damn well finish it. We don’t have a choice. And I don't give a crap about Michael Moore any longer.

Friday, March 24, 2006

Thus sayeth the New York Times, whose reputation for accuracy is unparalleled. As we all know.

I’ve had a full, bushy, marooned-on-a-desert-island Talibanesque beard since I was about 15 or 16. Not because I thought it looked cool, but because it was to damn much trouble to shave. I’m a hairy bastard, and I have to shave twice a day- and I still look like a homeless person. Thus, the beard, which I used to trim once or twice a month.

As you can see (kinda- you may have to squint), I’ve begun to spend a bit more time on my personal grooming, trimming and shaping the beard twice a week, but the thought of beards becoming cool, if only for fifteen minutes, is quite gratifying.

Because I hate shaving, and I’m going to keep the beard even after it stops being cool.

Tuesday, March 21, 2006

Weather tis nobler to suffer the slings and arrows of outrageous CD prices, or to take arms against a sea of Britney Spears wannabes, and, by downloading emo songs, make fun of them?

We’ve all heard the debate over the ethics and morality of downloading music.

Music Industry Side: We like money, and if you don’t pay for the album, we get less money. Therefore, we are going to put you little hippy bastards in jail.

Artist Side: Look, after my producers, lawyers, accountants, agents, personal trainers, and astrologers get done stealing whatever money I make from this new album, there is barely any money left over for me as it is. I need the cash- drugs don’t grow on trees, man. Don’t download music.

Consumer Side: Downloading music is not just morally and ethically correct, but we are all obligated to download music in order to teach the recording industry a lesson- that lesson being, stop with all your capitalist money trip, man.

Me personally, I was the king of Limewire, but I recently decided that it just wasn’t right. I deleted Limewire and about eleven gigs of downloaded music off my laptop. You really cannot make the argument that downloading music isn’t stealing.

Mordechai Ben David, Hasidic recording artist and the genius behind “Let my People Go”, “Jerusalem is Not for Sale”, and “Just One Shabbos”, has a different approach- he asks people, nicely, not to download music.

Wednesday, March 08, 2006

Now, a lot has been said about freedom of speech in regards to the Danish cartoons, and the Muslim world’s opinion about it.

Now, before you get involved in an argument, you have to understand all sides involved.

There are a few factions in the fight:

American Conservatives (o.k. The Ones With The Guns): who believe that there are a few silly, bad, or evil people, and if they can identify and shoot these people, the rest of the Muslim world will start watching Britney Spears videos, drinking Coors Light, and listening to the Black Eyed Peas. TOWTGs believe that all, or nearly all, humans, want to make a little money, have a little religion, and have a lot of fun. The problem, to TOWTGs, is that a few maniacs usually take over a given region and force everyone to do their bidding; then you have to send in GI Joe to kill COBRA. And the villagers will rejoice.

This is Pollyannaish at best.

American Liberals (Michael Moore and Howard Dean, i.e. Hippy Moonbats): who believe that Satan sent Karl Rove to destroy mankind. Karl Rove can't be elected because the Secret Service checks all Presidential candidates' feet for cloven hooves, so he and his fellow demon, Dick Cheney, got a patsy to be President: George Dubya Bush, who is both a retard barely capable of functioning at a third grade level and an evil genius capable of knocking down levees with his mind. Halliburton, a wholly owned subsidiary of Hell, with branches in Dis, Pandemonium, and Austin, offered Dick Cheney a dollar for every innocent Iraq civilian murdered by the US military-industrial complex. So Donald Rumsfeld blew up the World Trade Center so Chimpy McBushit could invade Iraq. Plus, oil.

Delusional.

Europeans (i.e. Euroweenies) believe that those silly American cowboys are really dumb for trying to be heroes, but, whatever. What scares the crepe suzettes out of the Euroweenies are those violent psychopaths living in huge numbers all over Europe, usually with no jobs due to flaccid, impotent economic policies set by the EU. So the Euroweenies say whatever is least likely to get their embassies burned down, because those nutjobs are effin' scary.

Gutless, and ultimately counterproductive.

Israel (i.e. The Zionist Entity): A bunch of middle class, college educated Saudis murdered a bunch of Americans on 9/11 leading to America’s latest incursion into Middle Eastern politics, so of course Israel is at fault. Israel has been fighting Islamofascist terrorism for almost four generations now, and they are getting sick and tired of it. They've tried ignoring the terrorists, shooting the terrorists, talking to the terrorists, blowing up the terrorists, negotiating with the terrorists, launching missiles at the terrorists, giving land to the terrorists, and siccing Bill Clinton on the terrorists. Currently, the policy in TZE is to create Palestinian State weather the Palestinians want one or not. The Israelis carved out a big chunk of their territory (including some of the most advanced agricultural facilities in the country; too bad the Palestinians can't seem to make it work- that thing about "making the desert bloom" wasn't propaganda, guys. And the price of kosher lettuce is up about 30%, if you can even find it for sale.) with the intent of sealing it the hell off- give the Palis guns and some money, build a big freaking wall around it, and let them make their own damn state.

How about this: in the United States, as in any free society, you have the right to believe as you wish.

So does everyone around you.

If everyone has the right to believe as they wish, it follows logically, then, that people have the right to disagree with you.

In a free society, you, and everyone around you, have the right to free speech.

That is, you have the right to not only disagree with me, but the right to express this disagreement in print or on your blog or by walking up and down the street with a sandwich board.

David Irving is currently serving a three year prison sentence in Austria for denying the Holocaust. David Irving is a jerk and I sincerely hope he burns in Hell. But David Irving has the right to say anything he wants to. Freedom of speech means the freedom to be wrong, too.

In a free society, you have the right to worship as you wish, and so does everyone around you.

You can disagree, argue, denounce, make fun of or spoof anyone’s religion, just as anyone can do the same to yours.

Therefore, let us conclude that people in free societies divide the world into two parts: Me and Everyone Else.

If Everyone Else doesn’t physically harm Me, I honestly don’t care what they say, or believe, or worship, or write, or blog. Let them make fun of Me. I have the right to make fun of Everyone Else if I want.Although, as a practical matter, members of free societies usually approach the matter of religion with respect and common courtesy. I’m not a Scientologist, but if you are, fine by me.

The Islamofascist world also, it would seem, divides the world into two parts: Us and Them.

Fine. Believe what you will, sir. Its no skin off my nose.

However, they seem to think that we are obligated to follow their rules, to believe as they do.

Respect I’ll give you, but obedience goes to far.

I do not accept dhimmitude. I do not accept Sharia law.

Publishing sacrilegious images may not have been a very politic move… but rioting and burning down embassies is not the proper response. It is the response of the barbarian.

Cosmopolitan and sophisticated, you enjoy the newest in food, art, and culture.You also appreciate a good amount of grit - and very little shocks you.You're competitive, driven, and very likely to succeed.

Famous people from New York: Sarah Michelle Gellar, Tupac Shakur, Woody Allen

Sunday, March 05, 2006

Our precinct has two lieutenants, who I will refer to as Lt. Spitpolish and Lt. Slipshod.

Lt. Spitpolish, the Operations Officer, has been in New Orleans, presumably with a mop and a bucket, until last week. This has meant that Lt. Slipshod and Sergeant Halfassed have been in charge of stuff like the APS 10 forms, the logbook, and organizing patrols.

We also have a Captain Rambo and a Deputy Inspector Methuselah, but they do not concern themselves much with the day-to-day operations of the unit.

The practical upshot of all this is that Lt. Slipshod has spent most of his time in the office on the computer or watching TV, leaving to Sergeant Halfassed the job of field supervisor.

Now, the precinct has a new CO, Captain Harassment, who wants to be Chief Harassment one day. Thus, he has decreed that the Auxiliaries will do more foot patrols, which should have (hope, hope) an impact on the crime rates in the precinct, thus making El Capitan Harassment look good.

Lieutenant Spitpolish, already pissed at the slipshod, half assed state of the paperwork, has seized this directive of Capt. Harassment as an opportunity to reinvent our little unit. Henceforth, foot patrol is the order of the day, with smartly turned out officers, shiny shoes, well maintained memo books, mandatory platoon assignments, and so forth.

What this means is that this past Tuesday evening, instead of cruising around in our half dead but lovingly used RMP, I was freezing my tuchis off on a foot post.

In case you’ve never walked a foot post before, here’s what you do:

Go to one end of your post.

Place your right foot in front of your left foot.

At a leisurely pace, put your left foot on front of your right foot.

Repeat as necessary.

When you reach the end of your post, turn around and go back the way you came.Look around you as you walk. If you are unlucky, and you have been assigned to a busy spot, you will soon see something that will cause you to walk a lot faster. On the other hand, if you are unlucky, you will be bored out of your skull by the end of the second hour of this, and you must look around for something to entertain yourself. You and your partner will have run out of things to talk about by the end of the first hour, unless your partner is Jon, who never says anything at all. So look for hot girls, not so hot girls, ugly girls, double parkers, druggies, homeless people, and foreigners, in that order. Properly handled, all these people will entertain you for free and make your tour go by a little quicker. Don’t forget to keep one eye out for lawbreakers or, heaven forbid, superior officers. Both of them will soon cause your tour to be full of incident, but nothing good can come of it.

Listen to your radio. Listening to a police radio is like listening to a baseball game early in the season with the score tied at zero in the bottom of the sixth inning. Nothing has happened the entire time you’ve been listening, but there is still a low-grade tension in it- you don’t want the other team to score. Also, there are always some entertaining tidbits. For example, last Tuesday night we got a Jamaican dispatcher, who told of a “call for ‘elp”, and of “twee-one-one”. And I will always treasure my memory of the “vicious squirrel” job.

At some point, you will get yourself something to eat. If you go to Dunkin Donuts, some idiot will pull out his or her cellphone camera and take pictures of your, chortling at the thought of it- cops in a Dunkin Donuts! Ignore them. The donuts are worth the idiots.

Come back in one piece.

Jon, my partner, got a cellphone with a camera, so I amused myself by taking pictures and emailing it to my self. Here are some of the non-crappy ones.Me in Dunkin Donuts. Hey, clichés come from somewhere.Me in a train station. The subways are a good place to get out of the cold.Jon in front of the turnstiles, looking for fare beaters, terrorists, super villains, and people with boomboxes.Jon conscientiously fills out his memo book for Lieutenant Spitpolish.

Now, don’t go thinking Lieutenant Spitpolish is a bad guy- he isn’t. I genuinely like him, and he seems to take an interest in us rookies and our ability to stay alive on the street. He’s constantly giving us advice and telling us little stories. He just takes himself a little seriously, that’s all.

Maybe one of his little tips will prove useful one day, and if they never do, at least it’s better than Lt. Slipshod’s penchant for watching TV.

Friday, February 24, 2006

And, we can all agree, Dubya saying “I’m going to do this thing and you can’t stop me, nyah nyah nyah, nyah nyah” was an astonishingly bad reaction. “Tone deaf” was how Lileks described it.

Ummm… free market is good, but this is our security here. Not that some terrorists couldn’t get a job in an American run port, but it would probably be a bit easier to do so in a port run by some guy whose brother in law has some sympathies in the wrong direction.

Thursday, February 23, 2006

Ranger Smith: Hi, Xzibit. I'm a Park Ranger, and I need something with a lot of firepower, but it can't clash with my uniform.

Squirrels getting bad? No. It's that bear. He smarter than the av-er-age bear, and he keeps getting into pic-a-nic baskets. I want that sumbitch's pelt for a rug. Him and his little Boo-Boo. Pedophilic, kleptomaniacal bears piss the hell out of me. Well, that's certainly understandable, sir. We have just the thing for you. It's a carbine in green and tan, just like your uniform.

Happy hunting.

Up next we have Carl "C.J" Johnson.

Hi, Xzibit. Nice to be here. I'm a huge fan.

Now, as an average, run of the mill thug, I didn't really see the need for flashy showmanship. Then I went to jail, and I learned the value of making a bold statement from my cellmate and "prison wife", Ken Lay. Kenny Boy is the former CEO of a Fortune 500 company, and to forstall me raping him like a Catholic chiorboy, he used to lecture me on leadership and management techniques. I must say, I learned quite a bit from Kenny Boy. In fact, I've been inspired to initiate a hostile takeover of my old gang, now that I've been released from prison (thank you, Democrats!).

One of the manegement techniques Ken stressed was flair and style. I'm looking for a signature personal weapon with a high rate of fire and unique styling.

Can you find me a weapon that matches my outfit? I want to smoke some bitches and look good while doing it.

Um. You're just wearing a floppy hat and some jeans.You got some kind of problem? How about I waste you right now, mofo? Uhhh... no, no, I don't got no problems...

Let's see what we have. How's that? Very nice. Kenny would be gratified that I've taken his lessons to heart. Do you have a weapon for my ho as well?

Ooh, do I get a gun too, CJ? I wanna pretty gun!

Sheesh. Let's see what we have for the lady... It has a cellphone charger, too.

Well, that's all for MTV's Pimp my Gun; join us next week as we pimp the guns of Dick Cheney and Machine Gun Kelly.

Tuesday, February 21, 2006

Hugo Chavez’s body was recovered from the trunk of an abandoned 1989 Crown Victoria in Bedford-Stuyvesant, Brooklyn, this morning. It was not immediately clear how the 51-year-old Venezuelan president died, or what he was doing in Brooklyn.

Lt. Irish McStereotype, head of the NYPD’s Brooklyn North Homicide Task Force, stated that President Chavez’s body was “riddled with buckshot”, but said that this was not the cause of death. He did say that a note was attached to the body. Sources within the Department tell us that the note read “Don’t call me ‘girl’”. “Dead Eye” Dick Cheney, Vice President of a prominent country, was being held for questioning at the 81st Precinct, but Lt. McStereotype refuse to name him as a suspect.

President Chavez had been in the news recently after a provocative speech in which he said, addressing US Secretary of State Dr. Condoleezza Rice, in which he said in part “Don't mess with me Condoleezza. Don't mess with me, girl.” In a press conference yesterday, Secretary Rice responded “Who you calling girl, nigga? Do not start with me. Do not start with me. I am a strong, independent black woman. I gots my education. I gots a BA in political science from the University of Denver, a Master’s in political science from Notre Dame, and a PhD from the Graduate School of International Studies at the University of Denver. So do not start with that weak-ass “girl” crap. I will pop a cap in yo ass, nigga. Mmm-hmm.”

At an unrelated briefing last night, the press questioned Secretary Rice about Vice President Cheney’s possible involvement in a homicide so soon after the “hunting accident” that left a Houston trial lawyer in the hospital. Dr. Rice responded “Cheney? That old white man couldn’t kill Chavez even if he got all his Secret Service homeboys to help. I killed that crazy Mexican myself. I even left a note. Da-yum, you reporters be stupid. Cheney? Probably have hisself a heart attack, he ever tried killin some fool Mexican.” When a reporter pointed out that Chavez had been Venezuelan, Secretary Rice began pistol-whipping him.

The press briefing broke up soon after that.

Police still have no leads as to the identity of the killer. If you have any information, please call (866) 313 TIPS.